March 2016 archive

Rain and Mist

Lady of the Lake - Alan Lee

Lady of the Lake – Alan Lee

I sat in the forest yesterday, kneeling on wet moss, seeing the rain come down over the trees. I looked for strength, placing my hands on the earth, looking up at the clouds. I reached into the sky, hands cupping light, praying to my Divine Father, feeling the Goddess circling me everywhere I looked.

I’m filled with doubts so often, losing faith, but the world is simpler in the forest, clear like the rain falling, like the streams meandering through the woods. I breathed deeply and sat for a long time, seeing the sun sink low on the horizon, feeling the shift in the air, the day falling into evening.

My husband and I went for a long walk around a mountain lake, last Sunday. I was tired, but as always nature has a way of seeping into my heart and bones, and I looked up to see clouds rolling in, mist floating over treetops, and everything felt dark and brooding, as though the world was waiting for rain and storm. I felt there were stories in the air, and I could feel them reaching for me, tugging me along, and I didn’t want to return to the car, not yet, not yet. As always the forest wrapped its magic around me, and I lost myself in it, would have stayed there if my husband didn’t have a hold of my hand. 

Where do you go when your spirit needs to breathe, when your heart needs healing? 

Priestess of the Goddess

Albert Lynch (1851–1912)

Albert Lynch (1851–1912)

I just created my new home page, which I’ve been putting off for some time now. It brought me some anxiety, feeling torn between staying small and playing with what my heart really wants. 

I was afraid to call myself a priestess of the Goddess, afraid of being too much, about what people might think. But it’s the role I want to have, the feeling I want to wake up with, a shift inside of me. Where the Goddess is at the center of my day, my life, and I worship her instead of myself. Follow her will instead of my own. And I feel this will bring me closer to myself, my true self, my heart.

It feels like an ancient path I walked long ago. One still in my heart and bones. Do you too remember?

Deep in my mind, I glimpse a white temple by water. And a fire always lit, lovingly tended in the name of Brigid.

It’s a path I’m learning to tread. A way of life that inspires me, makes me want to cry, in yearning for something old and beautiful made new. I want to walk with her, the Goddess, the rose, love.

My walk with her has for a long time been through grief, and now I feel something now emerging. I’m writing a new book about this, a story about a priestess finding her path, the Goddess and gifts buried inside.

I also made a board on Pinterest where I gather pictures to inspire me. I hope you like it. 

A Spring Equinox Celebration

You’re being given it all, the wind whispered. Everything you dream of is here; it is at your doorstep. Open the window to let in the light, and your new life, away from your prison.

But I’m not ready, she gasped. I’m still not good enough.

And yet it is given. You asked, and here it is. We love you.

Give it all up, all your worries and troubles and imperfections. Give it all to the God and Goddess and let them carry you. Spring is here, and it’s here to stay in your heart, blossoming into summer. Let it all go. Your new life awaits.

Saturday Evening

I sat among the trees, by the lake, under an almost full moon. I walked home in the gathering night, towards the light of a tiny silver star, and heard it whisper to me. 

Make a wish it said. Now on the eve of the equinox, make a wish for your new life, for everything you want to leave behind, and for the dream of something new. Be quiet and see this in your heart, and you will be guided. Brighter days are ahead, the snow is melting, there is no need to hold on to winter.

I gathered my wishes like flowers inside of me, and kept them there, to be released like petals on the wind. 

Sunday

It is the day of the equinox, and the sun has just cleared the treetops as I sit by my window, drinking hot black tea, dandelion coffee. We got up early, before dawn, my husband and I. We had found a spot close to us where we could see the sun come over the mountains, and went there, walking along a snow clad road, seeing the horizon painted pink, a crow flying over tall pine and fir trees.

It would be a clear, beautiful day, the sky a faint blue behind us. The clouds glinted like gold above the mountain tops, and I gazed at them longingly, hoping to see the sun rise into view. It felt like such a long wait, and I grew colder even through my layers of wool, even though there was no wind this time around. I was so grateful when it finally did rise, round and yellow, rays stretching across the mountains, the ice, into the forest behind us. I closed my eyes and took in its warmth. 

I feel sleepy now, but I don’t want to return to bed because the wind is in the trees and the light is coming, washing down the hill. I love to sit here while it filters into the kitchen, the room smelling a bit like coffee as I make my second cup of dandelion brew. 

What do you dream of, at this change of season? 

Spring Equinox 2016

Albert Lynch (1861)

Albert Lynch (1861)

I saw one of my tulips, cupping evening light, pink and white and golden. A moment of intense beauty, gone in an instant. 

The Spring Equinox 2016

The equinox is approaching, step by step, inch by inch. I went for a walk yesterday and felt a sadness in the sky, in the setting of the sun that I couldn’t quite explain. I sat on the ground for a while, gazing down on the lake, crusts of ice breaking, sparkling like diamonds, and up at the towering trees above me. I kneel sometimes, lifting my arms to Father Sky, putting my hands on Mother Earth. I feel guidance being there, among all the wild things.

It felt like the world was opening up, blue and wonderful, cracking at the edges to let light in, the birds soaking in new warmth, singing from hidden places as I go on my walks, or listen from my spot by the window.

I feel new life blossoming within me, the promise of spring, of white delicate flowers and tiny green leaves.

I feel I’m honing my listening skill, the inner ear hearing whispers in my bones, in my soul. I’m daring to trust, one tiny step at the time. I read this book which inspired me greatly, made me wonder about angels and spirit guides, and if we’re ever truly alone. Maybe there’s always someone walking with us, even if we can’t see them. But maybe we can sense them? A touch of love in our hearts, a feeling saying they understand, that they’re with us, protecting us. For some reason, I always felt protected, even when my life was falling apart.

Have you felt this too?

I wish I could gaze through the veil to the other side, but I’m a little afraid to. I think I read the world through feeling and sensing, and I’m trying to trust this language, words being spoken to me in my bones, my heart, an inner knowing.

Goddess of Fire

I see Brigid tending the sacred fire, dress in white, glowing among the shadows, her golden hair tumbling over her shoulders, down her back. Her eyes smiling at you, making you think of a clear blue river in spring, under the breaking ice.  

She beckons you closer. A fire Goddess. What does it mean to carry the fire within?

Will you celebrate the Equinox? 

Sharing that my favorite astral book is back on sale. 

Spring Equinox Rituals. 

A beautiful video of spring returning

The Return of Hope

She walked among silent white trees, her dress trailing the ground, leaving the hem muddy, her feet bare and cold as she stepped close to water, kneeling, drinking.

This morning I listen to a song I love very much, that inspired the name of this blog, and my book – The Little Flower.

This song is full of quiet hope. It is sad, yes, and I remember crying to it and asking for it to be sung at both my sister and dad’s funeral. It especially reminds me of my sister. It’s a conversation between a flower and the singer, where the flower explains things in trust of God. No, she does not mind being in the dark forest, where there are shadows because God is with her. She doesn’t need to be admired in a garden because she was born to be a forest flower. And when the snow comes, she’ll be asleep until the sun kisses her awake once again. 

I had a lovely moment last night when I had lit candles and opened the window to feel the fresh air. An owl was singing outside, and I paused, closed my eyes and smiled. It’s the most magical sound to me, and it’s been such a long time since last I heard it. I feel life returning all around me. I hear birds in the morning, and the light stays longer, seems brighter, as though the sun has regained some of its strength. 

I sit by the window now, watching the light on the birch trees, making me feel spring in my bones. The Equinox is coming up. I dream of standing by the water, in a simple white dress, but it will be too cold for that. I will watch the sunrise, probably in my winter coat, and though it’s less poetic, I’m looking forward to it. I hope to be by the coast this time, and see the sun come out of the ocean. 

Glimpses of a Story

Snow Queen • artist- Christian Birmingham

Snow Queen • artist- Christian Birmingham

The evening had fallen, draping itself in blue and white, the trees frosted over with newly fallen snow, a touch of ice at the edge of spring. She gazed out into the dying day, seeing a dim light fading just beyond the mountains. She sighed, dreamily hugging her knees in her ivory gown, feeling the cold of the window pane as she rested her head against it. It felt as though the long stillness of winter was passing into spring, but the light was shy, and pale, unsure of herself, – a white lady at the edge of the world, gazing longingly in, afraid to come closer. And yet everyone looked for her, any sign of her in the air, the ground, the budding trees. She did not know how much she was wanted.

But slowly she would know herself better. And her step would grow surer, her dress changing to pale green, and then violet as she sprinkled wild seeds and flowers from her hands. A soft wind would blow, her laughter warm and golden, releasing the streams, the ice-covered lake, and river. The birds would return, once more filling the world with song. 

 

***

I feel a bit like the winter outside my window, hovering just before the first touch of spring. There’s an ache in it, even though the snow that fell last night brightens something in me, makes me feel white clad and shiny on the inside.

I lit candles last night and started writing in the beautiful book I received for Christmas, with the golden cover. I’m still figuring out my new story. It keeps slipping from me when I try to grasp it. It needs a plot, an ending, but all that comes to me are little moments like the one above. So I write what comes, and hopefully, it will lead me somewhere.

My book is out on amazon. I’d love for you to check it out, and share it with someone you think might like it. Thank you!

I hope you’re dreaming beautiful dreams for the new week.